


The Negligence of Memory

by obsessivefangirl



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Brain Damaged Jim, Brain Injury, M/M, TW: Mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts., TW: Self Harm, brain damaged!jim, dub con, dubcon, starts to get quite M rated in the 3rd chapter....
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-02
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-04 17:43:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivefangirl/pseuds/obsessivefangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the 'accident' Richard/Jim struggles to regain his life, but he can't do that without piecing together his past.<br/>Warning: In the third chapter Seb does something that he might regret a little bit.... It's pretty dubcon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Richard Brook

**Author's Note:**

> Hey :) This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic... so it's a little scary but I just felt as if there are NOWHERE near enough braindamaged!Jim/Richard Brook fics out there. So I've taken it upon myself to create one :D  
> ~also this hasn't been proof read yet :3

There are two people standing over his bed, arguing.

Richard doesn’t recognize them, but that’s hardly a surprise, he doesn’t recognize anyone anymore. They seem to know who he is though, the way they are standing suggests that they’ve known him for a long time, but their eyes are guarded, clearly they used to respect him. Not any more though.

That’s ok with Richard though, as much as he hates having to act the sweet, brain damaged incompetent it’s necessary at moment. He has nothing and is being forced to survive on the pity of others, on the sympathy of his nurses and the doctors tending to his broken mind. It’s disgusting and makes his stomach twist angrily… but it’s necessary.  
So he continues with his act, wondering when he’ll finally be independent enough to run his own life without having to rely on these impressionable idiots. Richard knows it’s rude to call the people who saved his life “idiots” but to be frank that’s what they were. He knows that he’s clever, knows that his mind’s special, or at least it used to be. He can lay out complicated strategies and figure out how to manipulate the people around him so seamlessly that he still manages to retain his persona of innocence, his life line. He can do intricate equations in his head within a matter of seconds, knows random useless streams of information, and yet he can’t figure out how to link his mind properly to his body. It’s incredibly frustrating.

Richard wonders if these not quite strangers know that, probably not. They probably just assume that he’s another damaged case, another unfixable mess, but he knows he’s not. He also knows that his real name isn’t ‘Richard Brook’, sure that’s what his medical documents say, sure that’s what his nurses, the only people who talk to him any more, call him, but it just doesn’t add up. Richard Brook ‘the struggling actor’ simply can’t exist, he looks fine on paper, but there are far too many loose strings in the real world, why can’t they find any links to his family, for instance. Or why his only two visitors are these strange men arguing at the moment, people who claim to the nurses to work for him. Why doesn’t he have a house, or a history? ‘Richard Brook’ looks perfect on the papers but he doesn’t quite add up.

This leads Richard to assume that ‘Richard Brook’ must just be a fake identity, maybe to protect him, or maybe to hid him, he doesn’t know. Perhaps he worked for the government… that would make sense, after all they are the only people he can think of who would be able to pull a hoax like this. Though on deeper thought he could have worked for some form of criminal organization but he really doubted that, after all it would have to be a pretty big group to have organized something like this, and Richard would have had to be pretty important. No it was far likely that he worked for the government. Even if it would be fun to be one the bad guys, he thought with a smile.  
He doesn’t actually know what the two men arguing look like, he hasn’t opened his eyes yet, far preferring to continue pretending to be asleep and gather as much information as he can about them. Of course he knew that wouldn’t last long, after a couple more visits the men start to get impatient, one of them, the one with a deep, nasty voice, leans down to inspect his face carefully, spitting out some vile words about how “they should just give up, he’s useless now.”

Richard doesn’t like that very much, in fact it makes him rather angrily, he may be bed ridden but there was no way that he was anywhere near ‘useless’. So resisting the urge to growl at the man, knowing that if it came down to fight he would defiantly lose as he didn’t yet have full control of his body and that it would also blow his cover if he acted nasty now, he opened his eyes groggily. 

Taking the time to observe the men as thoroughly as possible, Richard took quick mental notes. The one on the right was a reasonably average height, roughly 5 ft 10 he guessed, with a large square, slightly squashed face, his nose crooked, probably from persistent breakage. He was brutish looking and although he was larger than most men Richard could remember seeing his weight wasn’t fat, it was all muscle. He looked like a man you defiantly wouldn’t want to get into a fist fight with… or any type of fight for that matter, however he didn’t look awfully intelligent, Richard noted with interest.

The one of the right was leaner though his frame was still pulled taint with tough muscle under his tanned skin, this man obviously travelled a lot, Richard observed. He was taller than the other man; probably about 6 ft 1, with a fine, distinct face with sharp angles that could be described as attractive, purely objectively of course. His knuckles weren’t as toughened as the other mans so he clearly didn’t get into physical fights quite as often as him, though they still had slight cuts and crevices that would suggest that he did sometimes get his hands dirty.

With that in mind Richard was almost certain now that he worked in some kind of secret organisation, criminal, which he still doubted, or governmental.  
Blinking slowly, he smiled at the men deciding that he would get more information from these not quite strangers if he let them talk, see if they would slip out any more information he could use.

The men looked slightly taken aback by his innocent gaze; clearly whoever Richard used to be wasn’t usually so sweet. For some reason that thought made him smile, maybe if he could get back to his old self he would be allowed to be as domineering as he wanted… that’d be fun. But first he had to get back to his old self, and to do that he had to remember who he was.

“Hi?” He said quietly, in a soft lilting voice with a questioning tone.

The men just stared at him for a second before one of them seemed to come to his senses, speaking in a well mannered tone with a calm, expressionless face though his eyes looked slightly distressed, Richard wondered why that was.

“Hello, sir.” The taller man said stiffly, examining Richard with careful eyes in a way that was so intimate it made the brain damaged man feel extremely uncomfortable.

They waited for a reaction; Richard stared blankly at them as his mind whirled. sir, so they did work for him, he thought, proud that he’d started to piece the puzzle together.

“We work for you, Richard.” The taller man said again, his voice cautious as he watched Richard carefully for any minute reactions that might prove he was still Jim.  
Richard nodded, “I know.”

The taller man frowned, looking over the shorter, stockier man for some form of support, seemingly taken aback by Richard’s confidence on the matter. 

The shorter man, stalked forward slightly, giving Richard a hard look, apparently incapable of the subtlety of the taller man. “We need you to sign some papers, sir.” He said stiffly. Richard scowled, that was the voice of the man who’d called him ‘useless’.

Tilting his head to the side thoughtfully Richard, chewed on his lip, not sure if he should trust these men yet, especially the shorter one.

“I’m not sure if that’s the best idea…” He said softly, hoping that these bigger, stronger men wouldn’t get angry with him, “It’s just I’m not really… well, you know.” He finished lamely motioning to his feeble body, and the tubes plugged into his arms.

“Yes, boss, I know.” The taller man said awkwardly sending the shorter a dirty look.

Richard decided that he liked the taller man, he seemed nice and hadn’t talked down to him yet, which was a nice change. The shorter man however was a different matter, he annoyed Richard, the way he looked at the brain damaged man was with something akin to contempt and that aggravated Richard as he could tell the thug obviously wasn’t even that smart. Not compared to him.

“I’m Dave- er, David Carter.” The shorter man said to fill the silence, ignoring the sideways glance Richard gave him at the informal name he’d used to begin with. It was interesting that he’d re-introduce himself to Richard with a nickname rather than his actual name since he was apparently their boss. “I handle your accounts.”

Richard couldn’t help but snort at that, ‘Dave’ was clearly not an accountant, not with his fighter’s stance.

The taller man nodded slightly, “I’m Sebastian Moran.” He said looking carefully at Richard, watching for the slightest flicker of recognition, he got none. With a resigned sigh, that confused Richard, he continued, “I’m your publicist, I make sure things run smoothly and you never have to get your hands dirty… I guess they’ve told you about-”

“Oh, yes.” Richard suddenly interrupted, wanting to test the information that the hospital staff had supplied him with, information that he had already began to doubt. 

“They’ve told me all about how I used to be an actor before the, well… the incident.” He supplied, watching for the men’s reaction to his words.

If he was hoping for some great declaration where they revealed all, he was vastly disappointed, all the men did was nod slightly, Sebastian’s jaw clenching ever so slightly.

“Yeah, boss... that’s right.” Sebastian replied his voice sounding a little hopeful as he asked, “Do you know who you are, your name I mean?”

Richard nodded, preparing to test the men further than before, he needed to know the truth, “Richard Brook.”


	2. The Car Journey Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the title...  
> Seb has feels about how Jim isn't the way he should be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologise for writing the second chapter so late on after the first. I stopped because I lacked inspiration and motivation... however I've now got a vague idea of how I want the plot to develop and some free time to write in so hopefully I should be updating regularly from now on.

It took another two weeks of constant visits from Sebastian and ‘Dave’, who Jim was growing to hate more and more with each acquaintance, before the hospital staff finally deemed him as stable enough to be taken home. The only problem was that ‘Richard Brook’ had absolutely no home what so ever, he didn’t even have a proper sum of money to his name. Yet more proof that had the brain damaged man convinced that ‘Richard’ was just a persona and certainly not one that was supposed to be permanent. Obviously when he tried to blow his brains out (sure the nurses and doctors tried to sugar coat it for him but he wasn’t stupid, he knew what must have happened) things hadn’t exactly gone to plan.

He hadn’t been surprised when Sebastian had offered to take him home with him for the next couple of weeks. There was something familiar about the publicist that set ‘Richards’ hair on edge. He knew that he knew the other man in some way more intamite than just employee and employer; he could only guess that they were friends of some sort. Perhaps they even used to be best friends until he became the pathetic mess that he is today. Part of him wondered if Sebastian was ever revolted when he looked down at the bed bound incompetent man he used to know. Probably.

So far the publicist hadn’t told him his real name, both of them acting as if they believed the lie that he was called ‘Richard’ and honestly it was starting to tire the damaged man.

Sebastian came to pick him up the next day, alone for the first time, with a wide forced grin on his face as if he was approaching a child. Which in a way he was. ‘Richard’ needed constant attention and couldn’t do anything phsycal himself. He had to have someone else help him up and wash him, he had to have someone else help him eat. It was disgraceful. 

‘Richard’ looked up at the blue eyed man apologetically as he walked over and helped him up with a strong firm grip. “I’m sorry,” He said quietly, his voice making the taller man paused, his eyes clouded and unreadable at the familiar voice speaking so softly. It sounded just like whenever the two of them would sit together on a lazy day, holding each and kissing to the sound of the rain falling outside. It brought back far too many painful memories. 

‘Richard’ didn’t miss the way he flinched. Shifting uncomfortably in the other man’s grasp as they walked along the hospital hallway, the bright white walls glaring back at them and the smell of disinfectant hanging heavily in the air, he didn’t say anything else. Leaving an uncomfortable silence between the two of them.

Sebastian just continued to smile, acting as though he was oblivious to the awkward way he held onto his former boss and as though his mere presence wasn’t setting the sniper on edge. He just wanted the man he’d grown to begrudgingly love back.

After another half an hour that seemed to drag on forever and several legal documents were signed, Sebastian had placed ‘Richard’ tenderly into the front seat of the sleek black company car. Sliding into the driver’s seat next to him and starting the engine with a low hum of machinery, Sebastian turned to smile amicably at the damaged man.

‘Richard’ frowned back. This was the first time they had been alone together since the ‘incident’; surely it was safe to ask him now. “Who am I?” He started suddenly, turning his wide dark eyes to the blonde haired man.

Sebastian’s hand tightened around the steering wheel as he looked ahead determinably. He was not going to let this fragile man see how much his question had startled him, up until this point Jim had shown no signs of doubting the persona he’d been given at the hospital. 

“You’re Richard Brook.” He replied, his tone calm and measured.

“No.” The dark haired man firmly, feeling slightly disappointed that Sebastian, the only man he currently knew and liked, was lying to him as well. “That doesn’t make any sense. I am not Richard Brook… so who am I?”

Sebastian’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. Obviously Jim wasn’t as lost as most people seemed to assume. That thought brought a thrill down the taller man’s spine. What if it was possible for Jim to come back? People had said it was unlikely, but right now hearing the other man speaking with such confidence in himself gave the sniper a renewed hope.

“You’re name’s Jim.” He said finally after a long pause. He hoped that the name would trigger some kind of response in his boss, perhaps even a memory. “Jim Moriarty.”

He got no reaction. Jim just nodded, repeating the name slowly and tasting it on his tongue. After a second he smiled. Yes. Jim. It suited him.

“Jim… I like it.” He said.

Sebastian let out a shallow breath of air, his eyes darkened with disappointment before he pulled himself back together. He had to be strong for Jim.

“Yeah.” He said numbly, “It’s a nice name.”

The rest of the car journey was spent in an uncomfortable silence again. Jim had thousands of questions burning in the back of his mind that he was desperate to ask, but looking over at the other man tensed over the driving wheel, he guessed that now was not a good time. He could wait. For a little while at least.

Sebastian’s eyes remained fixed ahead, he didn’t want to look back over at Jim and shatter the illusion he’d built up for himself that he was finally bringing his boss home. He knew that if he looked at the small broken man with his timid demeanor then all the lies he’d told himself to get through this would come shattering down. 

Jim’s eyes however darted around, looking over everything, the stretch of the road ahead of them, the way Sebastian’s jaw tensed and the interior of the car. Everything. 

When they eventually pulled up outside their usual flat Sebastian waited anxiously to see if the familiar setting would trigger anything in Jim. Nothing. The smaller man simply ran his dark eyes over the building and nodded.

“This is where I live now?” He asked turning to the taller man with a small innocent smile.

Sebastian hated that smile. Jim never smiled like that. He smiled like a shark, baring his teeth aggressively, or he smirked… perhaps after sex he might smile lazily over at you but he never looked innocent. The expression looked wrong on the criminal’s face.

He’s not a criminal any more though, Sebastian had to remind himself calmly, he’s just a small, vulnerable man now and he needs you to take care of him.

“Yeah.” He replied shortly before walking forwards, opening the door to the flat and pushing his way in with a light grunt. He didn’t look back at the small damaged man behind him.


	3. Small Little Broken Jimmy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit more of Seb wishing he had his boss back and then doing something.... he shouldn't....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of these chapters have been beta'd yet, and I have dyslexia so there might be a couple of errors. Sorry :)

Sometimes when Sebastian watched Jim around the flat it was easy to forget that he wasn’t the same man he used to know, that he wasn’t the insane criminal genius that he used to know. 

Other times it was painfully obvious.

Jim would wake up crying in the middle of the night, haunted with half memories of his past and screaming for his ‘Tiger’. By the time Seb got there every time Jim would have already forgotten his entire dream and would just be shivering from the terrible force of it all. 

There were times where Sebastian had to help the small vulnerable man to do even the most basic of tasks. He had to help him eat, chop up his food for him and remind the dark haired man that he needed to eat the food. He had to help him write, reminding him how to hold the pen and pencil between his quivering hands. 

In the first week he even had to help Jim go to the toilet. Watching as smaller of the two closed his eyes in embarrassment as Sebastian pulled his trousers down and coaxed him onto the toilet seat.

He was nothing like the alluring, sexy, confident man that had terrified the sniper to his core. He was weak, adorable, fragile; and it was killing Sebastian to see him like this.

Sometimes though his new behavior had it’s upsides. 

This new Jim was far cuddlier than the Jim he’d known. Now days during the time when Sebastian came home exhausted from a hit he didn’t have his boss shouting at him to get up and go have a shower before he got his precious white designer sofas dirty. Now days he’d slump down on the sofa and Jim would curl up next to him with a light purr.

With a smile Sebastian reached down and ran his hands slowly through Jim’s hair, feeling the other man’s head heavy on his chest. Jim purred softly, leaning into the sniper’s touch as he heard his steady heartbeat under his ear.

He still didn’t know who Sebastian was, he didn’t know where he went for hours on end at any point in the day, he didn’t know why sometimes when the other man looked at him his eyes were impossibly said, but he did know that he trusted Seb. He would trust his only friend with his life.

“Seb?” He asked quietly, his words drowned in a soft yawn.

“Hmm…?” Sebastian responded, watching Jim’s mouth form a small ‘O’ with lazy blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, Seb.”

The taller blonde man merely nodded. He’d heard Jim apologizing before, and although each time he said the words they cut through his heart, the knife was slowly becoming duller.

It didn’t matter to him any more that his Jim wouldn't say ‘I’m sorry’ of his own free will. His Jim was gone. He was lucky to have this gentle sweet man curled up against his chest.

“I know, Jimmy.” He murmured back, pressing the other man tighter against him in a tender embrace. “I know. It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

That night Sebastian lay alone in their shared bed, wishing that he had his boss back. He missed the man that would drag his nails along his chest, leaving angry red marks. He missed the man that would keep murmuring things in his ear, just to stop the sniper from falling asleep because he was a sadistic little shit. He missed the man who’d wake him with teeth against his bared neck.

It took him a full hour to fall asleep without Jim in his arms, trembling against the massive king sized mattress with the sheets slung precariously over his shoulder.

When he woke up, his mind lulled and sluggish, he was warm and his muscular arms were wrapped around a small sleeping body. It felt so natural to have the other man pressed close against his heaving chest that Sebastian didn’t question why he was here when he should have been in the other bedroom; he just leaned down slowly, pressing his lips tenderly to his boss’s.

Jim made a light noise in the back of his throat, his eyes still closed as he rolled over, and pressing in closer to the taller man. Sebastian took this as encouragement and started to move faster, prying the sleeping man’s lips open hungrily with his tongue. 

He’d missed his boss, his Jim. He’d missed the other man so much that as his hands flew down the other’s slender body, mapping out the planes of his flat stomach and the bones of his ribcage, he never remembered that this wasn’t his employer. This wasn’t his Jim. This was small broken little Jimmy.

That didn’t matter though, not to Sebastian. “Jim,” He growled, low in the back of his throat as the raven haired man’s eyes fluttered open to gaze up at his sniper.

There was a moment of silence, Jim watching him with wide terrified eyes, before Sebastian swooped in again, capturing his open lips in a hot desperate kiss. It had been so long. He needed his Jim, his boss. “Jim.” He groaned again, his sleep fogged mind not recognizing the fear behind those large dark eyes.

Squirming up against his sniper’s larger body, Jim let out a little cry. He needed to get out of here. He didn’t know why Sebastian was doing this. He needed to get out. His thoughts whirred frantically around his brilliant mind as the stronger man’s hands reached up to grasp his upper arms tightly and started to mouth his way along his bared neck. Biting down into the sensitive flesh and drawing small scared whimpers from the dark eyed man beneath him.

Mistaking his noises as pleasure, Sebastian’s tongue trialed along Jim’s neck, tracing his jugular as he placed firm needy kisses to his boss’s pale skin, “I missed you.” He whispered lowly as his hands slipped down to smaller man’s waistband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! CLIFFHANGER! So what do you guys think? Will Seb actually do it? Mwahahaa


	4. Scars

Jim tried to push the elder man off of him, his heart pounding and a strange pooling sensation building in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t like this. He didn’t want Sebastian’s hands to touch him like that.

“Stop!” He finally managed to cry out, his voice small and shaky.

Sebastian paused, registering the words dully as his mind was slowly pulled back to the present. This wasn’t his Jim, he realized with horror as he looked down at the small anxious man beneath him. 

Fuck.

Panic started to swell through him, pulling ragged breathes from his lungs as he stared down in shock at the broken man’s wide eyes. He’d ruined everything. He’d had to work so hard to get this new version of the man he’d loved to trust him again, he’d been through so much just so that this new Jim could function more or less normally; and now he’d thrown it all away.

Jim was scared of him.

“Fuck,” He said hastily, his hands held up in the air in surrender as he tried to calm both himself and Jim, “I- Fuck… Jim I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, Jimmy.”

Shaken, Jim pulled away. He’d had a nightmare again during the night, and for some reason curling up besides the other man had made him feel safer, now he wished he hadn’t. 

“Wh- What was that?” He stammered out as he lurched out of the bed, his small frame shivering at the touch of the cold air.

His legs buckled slightly under his own body weight as he tried to make his way across the room, his bare feet padding uncertainly, tripping up every few seconds, to the door. He needed some time to think,

Desperate, Sebastian leapt up, a cold feeling of sickness crawling through his stomach at how aroused he still was. He couldn’t believe that even know as he watched Jim struggling towards the door he still wanted to grab the smaller man and claim him up against the walls of what used to their bedroom. 

“Wait! Jimmy…” He called out, begging, as he rushed over to help the broken man stand, his strong hands wrapping around the other man’s arms again. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me… Jimmy…”

Jim didn’t respond. He still didn’t know how he felt about it all. At least this had answered a couple of questions he’d had about why the elder man was helping him. 

“Please… Jimmy...”

Jim stared blankly ahead, his eyebrows furrowed.

“We used to be together, correct?” He stated calmly, feeling far more collected as he let his mind take over and push the panic aside at being touched like that.

Sebastian stopped, his eyes wide before he nodded slowly. “Yes,” He replied his voice thick and heavy. It felt painful to having to admit to all those memories to this man who couldn’t remember any of them. It was horrific having to stand there as the man who should be Jim but wasn’t quite’s eyes raked over him carefully. “We used to be together.”

Jim nodded, then shrugged Sebastian off of him, his expression unreadable and started to take lopsided steps towards the en suite. The sniper watched him go with a lump in his throat. He’d really ruined things now.

Taking one look back at the taller blonde man, Jim locked the bathroom door with a sharp click.

Sebastian’s eyes remained fixed on the door for a second before he tore his gaze away with a muttered stream of cuss words and fell back against the bed. He’d promised himself when he’d heard that Jim was alive that he’d look after the idiotic man, but he hadn’t been expecting it to be like; foolishly he hadn’t expected Jim to be any different and certainly hadn’t been expecting it to be as difficult as all this. 

Hands knotting in the dirty blonde strands of his hair, Sebastian let out a cry of frustration. He knew that Jim could hear him and that he’d only be making the innocent man even more upset, but he couldn’t help himself; he felt sick and confusion and angry and frustrated.

Despite being hard only just minutes ago his cock was now flaccid, resting heavily against his thigh.

With a sigh he stood up, his hair sticking up at odd angles, and walked over to the ridiculously expensive full length mirror that was propped up against the white walls. He looked over his reflection with dull blue eyes, wondering how he’d come to this. 

His body was marred with old scars and a couple of red marks along his broad shoulders, most of them from the Old Jim, left behind from nights were his nails would scrap down his body mercilessly and knifes would dig into his sensitive flesh. The other larger one, scrapping down across his face and over his left eyes, continued down the beginnings of his chest in a light pink puckered line; he’d gotten that one from tiger poaching in India during his time in the army.

His skin was lightly tanned from all his hours outdoors on hits and large black rings ran around his eyes from the sleepless nights. His mouth pulled taunt with pain.

He was a mess.

He needed his Jim back.

Taking a shallow unsteady breath, his hands hanging heavily by his sides, Sebastian turned away from his own reflection, shaking his head. There was no point in feeling sorry for himself. Jim was never coming back now and he’d just ruined any chance he had at earning his new Jim’s trust.

He couldn’t take it here anymore, it’d been weeks since he’d brought New Jim home with him and since then he hadn’t had any time to himself. He needed to get out.

His heart beating with slow dead thuds, he quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and found a clean shirt, one that Jim had bought him for Christmas the previous year. Ignoring the way his heart welled up at the sight of the closely fitting black material, he flattened his hair back down with a quick brush of his hands.

Walking over to the en suite, Sebastian knocked hesitantly on the door to the bathroom.

“Jimmy?” He asked softly.

There was no response.

“Jimmy.”

Silence.

“I’m going out.” He continued, guilt lying heavily in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t be going out leaving Jim like this. He knew that, but the sniper had never been good with dealing with his feelings and right now he really needed a drink. Just something to drag him down into the pleasant grips of oblivion.

He waited a couple more seconds for Jim to respond and then he pulled away, his jaw clenched in frustration.

It only took a couple of minutes to grab everything he needed (the keys, some money) and leave the flat, slamming the door behind him.


	5. Drinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Self harm  
> TW: Mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts.

Sebastian had been gone for a whole hour before Jim finally pushed himself up from his position crouched on the bathroom floor, his arms wrapped protectively around himself.

He felt sick, and nothing made sense.

Sebastian was his friend, his only friend, and he’d thought he could trust the man who’d been so kind to him. Even when he’d seen the pain in the other man’s eyes that he tried so hard to mask as they flickered over to him, Jim still never allowed his trust to waver in Sebastian. He needed to be able to trust the other man, to cling to him.

Now things were different. Now he understood why the taller man was always tensed around him, and his expression carefully guarded. He now understood entirely why he would never be enough for Sebastian.

He took a shaky breath as his dark eyes skimmed over the contents of the bathroom; the expensive shower gels, the tooth brushes, the sink… and a razor. 

 

Sebastian’s head hung low over the bar as he stared down at the swirling patterns in the wood grain, his vision blurring. His throat was dry and burning at the sting of the alcohol as he took another long drink from the whiskey glass that he had clutched in trembling fingers.

He felt guilty, his stomach crawling with the sickening weight of it all; and now all he wanted was for it to all fade to nothing.

Oblivion.

That was one of the reasons he loved drinking, the one addiction along with smoking that he hadn’t been able to give up since his days in the army; it was so easy to cloud everything with alcohol. You just kept drinking, even when your breaths burnt and your eyes blurred, you didn’t stop when your head started to spin, and it didn’t matter how sick you started to feel because you knew in a couple more drinks you wouldn’t be able to think.

And then in a couple more you’d pass out.

It was just what the sniper needed at that moment.

He didn’t need to worry about Jim, or how he’d given his life to a man who’d shot himself in the head without a second of thought as to the consequences. He didn’t need to think about how selfish his boyfriend (if he could call him that) had been. He most certainly didn’t need to think about the scared little man shying away in their home, wearing the shell of the man he loved.

He didn’t need to think at all. He just needed the slow, steady burn of the alcohol coursing through his veins, blocking the world out.

He took another deep gulp, the world blurring again as his eyes slid lazily shut and then opened again a slow blink. He was starting to feel numb, the alcohol dulling his senses and his mind to the point where it was almost bearable again, for the first time since Jim had shot himself.

“Another one?” The short, stout man behind the bar asked in a gruff voice as he looked over the wrecked man, who was finishing yet another glass of their strongest whisky.

Sebastian nodded. It won’t be long until I pass out, he thought emotionlessly to himself as he accepted the refill and shoved another tenner across the table to the bartender, I’ll have to find myself a motel for the night.

 

Jim’s fingers played gently across the shaving razors’ blade, his head tilted to the side.

All it would take is one cut. Then it’d all be over, he wouldn’t be a burden to himself or Sebastian any more.

The soft pad of his thumb dragged gently down the sharp edge of the blade, the clean shiny steel slicing through the fragile skin and burrowing itself into the nerves winding through his flesh.

 

The ex-colonel could feel himself slipping. His vision was slowly fading to black and then to a blur again, his head spinning with each unbalanced step he took.

As he meandered through the crowded streets of London, already drunk at midday, he didn’t take notice of the disgusted looks the commuters shot him as he barged past, pushing them out of the way with a low groan.

The sun was too bright; it was torture to his sensitive alcohol tampered eyes. His pupils were small compared to his cloudy blue irises as he squinted through the clusters of people, his hand brought up protectively to cover his eyes.

It took him twenty minutes of swearing and tripping over his own feet to locate the nearest motel and another ten until he was plopped down unceremoniously onto the cheap bed covers, and promptly passed out.

Even with the cheap booze pounding through his veins and the vice like grip of unconsciousness dragging him down, Sebastian’s last thoughts were still a jumbled mess of Jim.

 

He wanted to do it. He wanted to make that one little cut, but he was scared.

Jim had no idea why, he’d obviously done it before considering the damage to the back of his head after he’d shot himself. 

Somehow though this seemed different, it seemed more permanent. He didn’t even know whose life he was taking really. When he’d shot himself he must have had a reason, and until he found out what it was Jim wasn’t going to allow himself the luxury of killing himself.

He had to do his old self justice and find out who he was. He had to.

So, with his eyes dead and tired, Jim carefully placed the blade away, washing the blood off of the sharp metal surface and cleaning up his thumb. He didn’t want Sebastian finding out about this, if he ever came back that is.

His energy was renewed now that he’d found himself a purpose, and the small raven haired man unlocked that bathroom door, by passing the bed he’d crept into last night with an uncomfortable lump in his throat at the memory and went over to his laptop. The one that Sebastian had been trying to regulate his use of since he’d arrived at the flat.

If he was going to dredge up his past going through his computer records seemed like a good place to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...So have I ruined these characters yet?

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments telling me how I've done and how I could improve, they'd be really appreciated :D  
> Thank you!!!


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